Chapter 44

Tim remained at the house for another three months, never venturing farther from it than the nearest town to replenish his supplies. Twice, Tony and Ziva came to visit him...ostensibly in order to bring Ducky with them. The visits were...short...and thankfully so. They were all very awkward with each other, but Tim tried to appreciate the effort. Unlike Gibbs, Tony and Ziva didn't stay at the house. Tim had offered, but they had insisted on staying in town instead. They came over and hung out for a few hours, but they could all feel the tension. The first time they came, Tim was sure that it would be the only time...and it was almost a relief. ...but three weeks later, they had come again...again with Ducky in tow, and adding Abby and Jimmy to their number. Ducky, Jimmy and Abby stayed with Tim at the house, but Tony and Ziva still stayed in town.

In addition to those awkward visits, Matt and Judith came a few times and his parents came twice, Sarah once. Those visits weren't awkward, but still they had their own brand of tension...and Tim was almost glad when they were gone, too.

It was the questions everyone wanted to ask but none of them did. ...well, none of them besides Gibbs. How long would he be staying here? What was he going to do after? Where was he going to go? How was he going to live? They were all good questions. Important questions. ...and questions Tim didn't feel prepared to answer just yet...which was why the visits were awkward.

The times he was alone, Tim usually spent long hours on the beach, just watching the waves. He had got to the point that, even without checking on the tides, he could tell the high and low tides.

Like now. It would be high tide soon. He'd sat as the sun went down and watched as the waves crept further and further up the sand. His beach didn't face west, but there were high clouds that had taken on bright colors with the setting sun. The waves rolled in and up the beach; when the water reached its farthest extent, it just barely reached his toes. Tim smiled as the water covered his toes and then receded. He could see the places where he sat when the tide was low.

"Predictable," he said aloud. "Am I uncontrolled and yet predictable?"

He laughed to himself and then stood up. A breeze ruffled his hair and he closed his eyes, feeling the wind on his face. It was so nice here. Tim wished that he could just stay here for the rest of his life. It was so calm. It was so easy. Even in the midst of terrible storms, he felt more at ease here than he did anywhere else. Of course, it helped that he was alone. People caused him a lot more grief than the elements did. He wanted to stay, but deep inside, he knew he couldn't. It wasn't that he would be forced to leave. Matt would let him stay here for eternity if he wanted to...and he did.

...but he didn't. This wasn't really living. This was...as Gibbs had said...a state of limbo. He wasn't really living right now. He was existing, trying to prepare himself to live again.

...like Jewel never will...

The thought, instantaneous as it was, gave him a pang of grief and guilt. Even now, when he knew who and what Julia Westin had been, even now, he regretted that he had been forced to kill her. ...and he could still feel that part of himself that believed he deserved to be punished for killing her, for all those things he had done while undercover.

He could still feel that part of himself that hated his own existence, that part that felt the only thing Tim McGee deserved was death and an eternity of suffering.

That part was wrong. He could almost think that and believe it now, but it took some doing.

Maybe it was time to start living. Maybe that would break this impasse. Maybe that would finally banish Jewel from his mind.

As soon as the thought came into his mind, he shivered, and not from the cold night air.

"I'm sorry I had to kill you, Jewel," Tim whispered. "...and more than that, I'm sorry that I felt glad when you were dead, no matter how briefly that emotion ruled me. I'm sorry that I used you to get what I wanted. I'm sorry that I let you use me." He took a deep breath. "I have to let you go. I have to. I've carried you with me. I've let the memory of you poison me until I really did almost die. I have to let that go. You would never have thought of me for this long."

The waves rolled in and then out. The wind continued to blow.

"I've let you take the place of the bullies who ruled my life long after I escaped from them. I let them poison me until I was ready to turn my back on the whole human race. I've let you do the same until I was ready to let myself die and I can't."

Saying the words wouldn't make her go away, not instantly...but Tim felt there was some good just in saying them aloud...even if no one was there to hear them. They were words for himself, not for anyone else.

"I won't let them win," Tim said.

One more inhalation as the wind blew. Then, he turned around and went back into the house.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Three weeks later...

There was a knock on the door and Ducky stood up, a bit slowly, yes, but not with a lack of speed which bespoke frailty. Just age...and a bit of injury. He was still struggling to regain all the movement in his arm, something he had kept from Tim during every visit to Maine. That struggle was exacerbated by the simple fact that he didn't heal quickly anymore. The bullet that had injured his shoulder had also sapped much of his excess energy, but he thought he'd been successful in hiding it from Tim. However, the time was swiftly approaching when that would no longer be possible. Jimmy would be finishing all the requirements in the next few months. He hadn't said anything. No one had, but Ducky was ready to nip it in the bud and tell Jimmy that he would be the M.E. before too long, that is if he had anything to say about it.

Ducky was acting merely in a supervisory capacity at this point. Jimmy did the autopsies with only occasional input from Ducky. The complicated cases resulted in a visit from Jordan Hampton, still with most of the work being undertaken by Jimmy himself. Ducky smiled at the thought of Jordan. She always managed to brighten his day, no matter how much younger she was than he. So the work was being done by Jimmy, soon to be Dr. Palmer, and a visiting M.E. All Ducky did was put his signature to the various forms. It was galling in a way, but at the same time, it was simply the natural progression of life. He could be grateful that he was retiring with all his faculties intact...and most of his physical ability as well.

How would Tim react to this? He would know that it was due to the injury Ducky had suffered. Would he still take all that blame on himself? That was the question...and Ducky didn't know the answer to it. Tim seemed to be doing better every time he had seen him, but he was still not fully recovered...and injuries to the psyche were so much harder to heal than injuries to the body.

The knock at the door was repeated and Ducky smiled to himself at his own distraction. Quickly, he reached the door and opened it.

...and then almost fell backwards in surprise.

"Timothy!"

Tim was standing awkwardly on his front porch, scuffing the heel of a well-worn shoe against the cement.

"Hi, Ducky."

"What...are you doing here?"

"Visiting? ...if you don't mind?"

Ducky laughed. "Of course not, lad! Come in! Come in!"

Tim smiled and stepped inside.

"I didn't know you were coming back."

"It's probably hypocritical of me to insist that people call first to visit me but I just show up on your doorstep without a word. I...didn't tell anyone."

"Whyever not?" Ducky took Tim by the arm and directed him toward the kitchen. "Sit down. Have you eaten? Of course, you haven't. You never do if you're not thinking about it. I don't have much on hand right now, but you can have some tea. Just let me get it going."

"Ducky, it's okay. You don't have to get me anything," Tim said.

Ducky paused in his preparations and looked Tim in the eye. "I know I don't have to. You wouldn't ask it of me, and perhaps it's not necessary in terms of your physical needs. ...but trust me, Timothy. I do need to."

Tim held his gaze and nodded. "Okay."

Ducky smiled. "Good. Once the tea is ready, you can answer my questions."

Tim was silent for a few moments, but when the pot signaled that the water was ready, he stood up and walked over beside Ducky.

"I'll get it."

"It's not necessary," Ducky said.

"Are you sure?" Tim asked, his voice indicating a more serious question than it might otherwise be.

Ducky smiled sadly. "I'd hoped to keep this from you for a little longer, Timothy."

"If you'd stayed away after the first couple of months, you'd probably have succeeded," Tim said. "I've been totally self-absorbed, but even I noticed by the end."

"Not self-absorbed."

Tim laughed without humor. "No, Ducky. There may have been good reasons for it, but let's call it what it is: self-absorption."

"But you noticed?"

"Finally. Yeah. How bad is it?"

Ducky forced a cheery smile in an effort to lighten the mood. "Not bad enough that I can't carry a laden tea tray."

Tim didn't smile.

"Timothy, sit down. I'll bring the tea over."

Tim didn't look happy about it, but he did as Ducky asked. Ducky picked up the tray and carried it to the table. Then, without speaking, he poured for both of them. He knew Tim was watching for any sign of the weakness he'd somehow noticed. The problem was that in small things like this, there was no sign. It was a cumulative effect, not any one moment. Finally, he handed Tim the cup.

"How bad, Ducky?" Tim asked.

"Bad enough that full recovery, if it really does occur, will be a very long time coming."

"So...what does that mean?"

"It means that I will retire as soon as Mr. Palmer becomes Dr. Palmer and can take over. He has done so in all but name already. He does the work. I supervise and sign the forms. It has been this way since I returned to work."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Ducky chuckled. "Because it occurred to me that you would likely have difficulty accepting it. Am I wrong?"

"No. You're not...but Ducky..."

"No, Timothy," Ducky interrupted sternly. "I will not allow you to take this onto yourself. We have already discussed it. You did not pull that trigger. You didn't shoot me. You certainly did not wish this injury on me. In fact, I know that you would have put yourself in my place if you could have done so. But you can't do that, and you can't change what has happened. You can't make me younger and more able to heal. Timothy, I'm old!" Ducky smiled as he said. "No, I'm nowhere near dying as yet, but I'm plenty far over the hill. I have no difficulty admitting that. I'm retiring and I don't mind. I've already made arrangements to be a consultant when my official tenure is complete."

Tim was still distressed...but Ducky now was unsure if it was due to guilt or just to the realization that things were changing...and not being able to control that change could be a difficulty for him.

"Timothy?"

"I'm sorry, Ducky."

Ducky sighed...but Tim wasn't done. He stared at his teacup.

"I'm sorry that you're so worried about me that you felt you to...hide the truth from me. You've done so much for me...and I couldn't do anything to repay you."

"It's not necessary."

"Maybe not...but..."

"No, Timothy. It's not necessary. Can you not see that I'm fine? I'm not steady enough with a scalpel to pursue my former vocation. I'm feeling my age. But I am healthy. I am more than able to take care of myself." Ducky reached out and lifted Tim's face. "You bear no responsibility for my well-being. I'm not ready to be taken care of just yet."

Tim managed a smile which shook for a moment before he took a long swallow of tea, terribly impolite, but Ducky didn't mention it.

"Things...they can't go back to how they were."

"No, Timothy. They can't. Do you still want them to?"

"Not really...but I wish I could go back to before all this and have it never happen. I wish I could say to Director Vance that I didn't feel capable of doing that undercover assignment. I don't have the temperament for it. I wish I had known that." Tim's eyes shifted to the window. "So much wasted time. So much wasted life."

"Delayed, perhaps, but wasted? No. Timothy, you paid a heavy price for that assignment, but much good came from it as well. Lives were lost...almost including your own, but the most important lessons we learn in life are often learned in the most difficult of circumstances. Would it have been easier had you not gone through it? Definitely. Would it have been better? That's more difficult to ascertain. Certainly, it's easy to say that it would have been, but can you really say with certainty that your former colleagues would have been better in that position? Did any of them have the requisite computer skills that allowed you to do so much?"

"They wouldn't have fallen apart like I did."

"More than likely not," Ducky agreed. "That doesn't mean they would have been a better choice."

"Personally...I think I disagree," Tim mumbled.

"Personally...I don't blame you."

Tim took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Now, tell me why you didn't let anyone know you were leaving your sanctuary."

Tim's eyes moved back to Ducky.

"Because I wasn't sure I'd make it all the way here. Every time the bus stopped, I was ready to hop off and catch one going back north."

"You rode the bus all the way down here?"

"Yeah. It was really cheap. Took a while, but I made it."

"And what brought about this sudden trip?"

"It wasn't sudden. Not for me. I've been thinking about this for a while. Almost two weeks."

"And?"

"And I'm terrified."

Ducky was surprised. He tried to parse Tim's meaning. Clearly, it was about more than just leaving Maine.

"What was your purpose in coming, Timothy?"

"I...I have an...appointment with...with Director Vance. Tomorrow morning."

"What?" Ducky was completely flabbergasted. He hadn't even considered this development.

"I want to see what it would take for me...to work at NCIS again." Tim took a quick breath. "I'm not ready to...not yet...but I...I just want to know if I should even be thinking about it. Gibbs seems to think that I could without any trouble...but it can't be that simple. I don't think it's possible that it could be."

"Is this truly what you want, Timothy?"

A half-smile graced Tim's lips. "Sort of."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that...I do want this...if I can be what I was before. I can't accept less. I just can't."

"What would be less, Timothy?"

"Not being a field agent. I'm willing to work back up to that, but I have to know if it's possible...if they'd be willing to take me back with how screwed up I've been...how screwed up I still am. I have to know because I can't try again if there's no chance."

"What if the director feels it's not a possibility?"

"Then...I'll probably leave DC...for good. I don't know if I'd end up here anyway, but I couldn't stay here...not knowing what I'd lost...how badly I'd failed."

"Failed?" Ducky asked.

"Failed to recover. I've sunk so low, Ducky. I'm just barely crawling out of the...the scummy depths." He laughed a little at the metaphor. "I'm just barely letting myself after nearly two years of...not just staying down there but trying to dig a deeper hole. Knowing that I'd failed...I couldn't stay at the site of my failure." Tim sighed. "Nothing I've ever done in the rest of my life has made me as happy as NCIS has. Nothing. I've never wanted anything else as much. If I have to find something else to do...it's going to be...somewhere else, doing something else. Anything else."

Gains and losses, Ducky decided. That's how Tim seemed to be going. He had made some very significant gains in his time away, but still, there was that threat of toppling back down into the...scummy depths, as he had called it. And yet, he had a desire to achieve something. It wasn't just about survival, but about something he did seem to want. That was significant. There was also an awareness of his own precarious position, mentally speaking.

"Director Vance has already agreed to speak with you?"

"Yes."

"That's a positive sign in and of itself, you know," Ducky said...and then realized, quite suddenly, that he himself wanted Tim back at NCIS, not just with the agency but back in DC. ...because he'd miss Tim if he left. It was a selfish desire to keep him around...but Ducky was old enough to acknowledge that there was a portion of selfishness...so long as he didn't allow that to take precedence over what would be best for Tim.

"Maybe. I hope...maybe it is."

Ducky smiled. "Well, do you have plans for where you'll be staying while you're in town?"

"I was hoping I could stay here," Tim said.

"Of course!" Ducky said without any thought at all.

He was rewarded with a genuine smile.

"Thanks. I'm going to call Matt. He'll lecture me about coming down here without calling first. He'll probably invite us up there for dinner. You game?"

"If you think he'll invite me as well."

"He will," Tim said. "That's the kind of guy he is. He wouldn't dream of inviting one person but not another in a house. It would seem...wrong to him."

Ducky chuckled. "Then, if that is the case, you may accept on my behalf as well."

"All right." The smile faded. "Ducky...I'm really scared about doing this. What if Director Vance does say that there's no chance I can come back?"

"Then, you will have to accept his decision and move on with your life. Timothy, there's nothing else that you could do in that event."

The unspoken words hung in the air during the pause that came after. Ducky knew that they both remembered all too well that night when Tim had broken down and truly was ready to die. Yes, there was something else...but neither of them would even mention the possibility...but they both knew it existed.

"I'll go...call Matt."

"Very well."

Tim stood and left the kitchen and Ducky leaned back in his chair. Better? Yes, Tim was better. Healed? No. There was still a long road ahead of him for that...and only time would tell if Tim had the endurance to continue on down that road.